PICKING LINT

Plying the busy fingers Over the vestments old, Not with the weary needle, Not for some grains of gold; Thinking of fainting heroes, Out in the dreary night, Smitten in Freedom's battle, First in the gallant fight --
CHORUS: O, bright are the jewels from love's deep mint, God bless the fingers while picking the lint, God bless the fingers while picking the lint.
Quicker the blood is flowing, Hundreds were slain today, And every warm pulsation Is stealing life away. "A hundred threads a minute, A hundred drops of gore," The sad and thrilling measures We've never learned before --
CHORUS: The shadows are weaving a silver tint, God bless the fingers while picking the lint, God bless the fingers while picking the lint.
We've clad the fallen heroes In garments we have made, By light we now are picking, The fearful tide be stayed; We lift our hearts to Heaven, Our Father's blessings crave, Behold our smitten country, O bless the fallen brave --
CHORUS: O, bright are the jewels from love's deep mint, God bless the fingers while picking the lint, God bless the fingers while picking the lint.

RETURN TO "MY CONFEDERATE HEROES"